


A Waltz For the Chance I Should Take

by Midnightminx90



Series: Fjorester Week 2019 [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Insecurity, Jealousy, Light Angst, Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-11-16 08:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18091013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnightminx90/pseuds/Midnightminx90
Summary: Day 4: Jealousy----There’s been trust between them from the very start.But it’s not enough, the voice at the back of his head tells him.You’re not good enough for her. You never will be. She deserves someone who can provide her with the income she is used to and deserves. Jester deserves to be spoilt. You will never be able to do that.





	A Waltz For the Chance I Should Take

**Author's Note:**

> Day four, and the first I wrote for this week! It was actually because we'd been talking about jealous!Fjord combined with Percy IV on the Fjorester server, so I'd already started it before we made this week a thing.
> 
> Title from So She Dances by Josh Groban

It had all started as what was supposed to be an enjoyable trip on the sea.  
  
Just a couple of days back on the water, but along the coast this time, safe from pirates and any creatures that might lurk in the depths, but the storm had not been on the horizon when they set out, and it grew so violent so fast that they had no way of preparing for it.  
  
The waves were the worst.  
  
Threatening to throw them overboard, rocking the ship until even Fjord felt like he might throw up. Their vessel being far smaller than The Mist and The Squall Eater it had been no surprise, but it made it all the harder for them.  
While it had been easier to steer, the ship could also handle less damage, and the wind tearing at their sails steered them easily off course.  
  
Lightning had flared up, illuminating their surrounding briefly, splitting the sky in two. Thunder had chased the flashes, the sounds were so close and loud they had felt tempted to cover their ears, but holding on was all they can do at that moment, as there had no longer been any point in trying to steer the ship.  
  
Once the clouds have parted and the wind subsided, they see a rocky outcropping.  
  
It is too late for them to avoid crashing into it, and before they know it, their ship is taking in water and sinking, leaving them to attempt to hold onto pieces of rock or debris to keep themselves afloat.  
  
There is no land in sight, and night is fast approaching.  
  
“Fjord, what do we do?” Jester calls out to him, helping Nott to climb onto some planks so she can get out of the water.  
“I don’t know, I’ve never been shipwrecked before!”  
“That’s not what you told us before,” Beau shouts back, trying to cling to some of rocks.  
  
Fjord curses.  
  
“I wasn’t awake for that! I came to afterwards on the shore, remember?”  
“You still know more than us!” Nott screeches back, no longer holding back on her apparent discomfort.  
“Would you ask Yasha about the storm if she were here?” He retorts, angry and frustrated.  
  
Nott offer no reply as she holds her never-ending flask to her chest, and she takes another large sip.  
  
Jester treads the water to keep afloat, while Caduceus helps Caleb onto a crate before moving to hold onto some rocks of his own.  
Fjord’s trying to remember anything at all, something Vandren or another crew member could have told him that would be of help.  
  
Then a large shadow appears over them, the shape of it familiar.  
  
“Hang on!” a voice shouts, and a rope ladder appears just out of reach. “Help’s on the way!”  
  
A shape hits the water, and then a person pops up, swimming over to them. They help Nott reach the ladder first, then Caduceus and Beau. Caleb makes his way over on his own. Just as Fjord reaches the ladder, Jester screams out and before Fjord can react, she is dragged under.  
  
“I’ll get her,” their newly arrived aid tells him, and then dives underneath.  
  
Fjord won’t have any of it, and takes a deep breath himself before going under, eyes searching for any kind of movement. He summons his falchion and begins swimming deeper, ready for the first sign of danger.  
Then he catches a movement, something blue out of the corner of his eye and sees the stranger carrying Jester in their arms, heading for the surface.  
  
He swims after them and once his head is clear of the water, he sees that Jester is unconscious.  
  
“Help me get her aboard,” they say, and Fjord does not hesitate.  
  
They manage it together and once they’re aboard what turns out to be an airship, the stranger puts Jester down gingerly and after checking her pulse, starts giving her mouth-to-mouth.  
  
Fjord’s memories flashes back to when he saved Jester’s life by giving her all the air left in his own lungs, and the vision of this stranger touching her, pressing their lips against Jester’s, even to save her life… It leaves him seething, angry, and he is unable to focus on anything else.  
  
Until Jester coughs, sitting up as she retches, saltwater splashing across the already wet deck.  
  
Then her eyes open, landing on their saviour (Fjord scoffs internally at that) and they widen for a fraction of a moment. Fjord’s own eyes narrow as she locks eyes with the stranger, and he doesn’t notice the look Beau’s giving him, nor the smirk on Nott’s face.    
  
“Hi,” Jester says, voice her chirpy normal, even as her throat must be sore from the saltwater. “I’m Jester.”  
“Pleasure to meet you Jester,” the person says, accepting the hand she’s holding out and kissing the back of it. “I’m Percival von Musel Klossowski de Rolo IV of the First House of Whitestone, but _you_ may call me Percy.”  
  
Fjord feels like he is about to throw up from the pompousness and the wink at the end makes him want to punch this Percival.  
  
Still, he did help them and most likely saved their lives, so doing that would probably be rude. Probably. Doesn’t mean he has to trust this man though. With a name like that he’s probably some stuck-up ass who thinks he can say and do whatever he wants and get his will.  
  
At least he is not the only one thinking like this, at least based on the look on Beau’s face.  
  
Percival helps Jester to her feet and she links arms with him, accepting his support. Fjord just might be seeing red at this point, but he is trying to fight back the urge to let it show. He will not be the monster other perceive him to be, and a part of him still fears Jester will see him differently.  
  
“Please, join me inside and I shall provide all of you with a change of clothes so you do not freeze to death. Then you can clean up and rest before dinner. Right this way,” Percival says and he leads them below deck.  
  
Fjord grinds his teeth, more aware now than ever of his tusks growing in.  
  
The others enter, and so Fjord follows.  
Inside, now that he is looking around, the airship is larger than Fjord initially thought. It’s also clear that this ship is meant for leisure, with carpets on the floors and decorated scones along the walls. Fjord’s only been on vessels used for transport and piracy, and this is the complete opposite.  
  
Percival shows them the cabins, and Fjord’s envy grows.  
  
While there are hooks on the walls that indicate that hammocks can be hung there, there are instead bunk beds inside the rooms. Proper ones, sturdy, with pillows and covers, each room colour coordinated. There are four rooms, with two beds each.  
  
Fjord walks into one, needing to get away from Percival and Jester.  
  
A small part of him hopes Jester will follow him, but he knows she won’t. In fact, no one does. Caleb and Nott share one room, as usual, and Fjord sees Caduceus go into one of the other rooms. The only thing that lightens his mood is seeing Beau and Jester walk into the last room.  
  
Fjord closes his door, sinking down to the floor with his back against it.  
  
He almost lost Jester, and it was all his fault. He is the one who brought them out here, who suggested this trip. He should have paid better attention to the weather, should have seen the signs.  
  
It’s enough to almost make him bang his head against the door.  
  
Fjord stays there, thoughts alternating between worry over what would have happened had Percival not shown up, and jealousy. He’ll not say so out loud, but he _is_ jealous. Of the ship, of the apparent money the guy has, how he rescued Jester, of his stupid fancy clothes and how he managed to look attractive even when dripping wet, his dark hair hanging in front of face, plastered to his skin.  
  
He does not growl, but it’s a very near thing.  
  
A knock on the door breaks his train of through, and upon opening it, Fjord finds one of the people working on the ship, holding out clothes to him. Casting a quick glance out into the hallway, he sees the same in front of the other doors.  
  
Fjord takes the offered garments and thanks the... servant? crewman?  
  
Just as he is about to close the door however, he is handed a bowl of water and a washcloth, then told that food is almost ready and will be served on deck in half an hour. With another ‘thank you’, Fjord closes the door and drops the clothes on the bottom bunk.  
  
He looks around the room, spotting a rolled up hammock in a corner.  
  
Ignoring the clothes on the bed and his own dripping armour, Fjord takes it out and hangs it up. Beds are good, but any and all ship calls for sleeping in a hammock. It’s what he’s always done and what feels right to him.  
  
No matter how comfortable they are.  
  
Removing his armour and putting it aside, Fjord climbs into the hammock. He’s tired and sleep comes easily.  
  
It feels like he’s just closed his eyes when there’s a knock on the door, and he startles, almost falls down onto the floor. It takes him a moment to remember where he is, and why, and before he is on his feet, Jester’s opened his door.  
  
She’s wearing a long dress, a dark blue with pale specks that imitate the night sky and it’s form fitting in a way that leaves Fjord confused as to what he’s feeling about it.  
  
She looks magnificent.  
  
“Fjooooord, why aren’t you dressed yet? Percy says dinner is ready and it’s rude to keep him waiting.”  
“Right. Yeah. Fell asleep, ‘s all. I’ll be right up.”  
“Okay but don’t take too long okay?”  
“I’ll try.”  
  
Jester smiles at him, and Fjord almost asks her not to go.  
  
The door closes behind her, and he’s left to get changed. Fjord ignores the washcloth, instead using control water in a poor imitation of Avantika. The water is cold now, but Fjord doesn’t care; it’s what he is used to after all.  
Just like Jester’s dress, his own clothes are clearly tailored, but unlike Jester’s, the clothes Fjord borrows fit oddly. A bit snug in places and to loose in others, which makes him feel awkward. Like he doesn’t fit in.  
  
Just another sore spot for an already sore mind.  
  
It doesn’t get easier when he joins the others out on deck, seeing Jester seated at Percival’s side. Percival is wearing a blue coat and as Fjord’s taking his seat, he hears Percival talk about how it belonged to his father, one of the members of Vox Machina, the heroes and saviors of Tal’Dorei.  
  
Percival’s hair is shaved on the side, his long dark hair done up in an intricate braid. When he turns his head, Fjord sees he has a white streak that runs through it. Just like Fjord’s own.  
  
Everyone compliments the dinner but Fjord struggled to get through it, food stuck in his throat as Percival flirts with Jester, telling her of his own heroic deeds. He tries to tune them out, focusing on anything else, but all of his friends seem to pay attention as well, leaving Fjord with no one to talk to.  
  
After they’re done eating, music is played out on deck after the tables are cleared away.  
  
Frustration surges again as their _savior_ (blergh) asks Jester to dance.  
  
Jester giggles as she accepts his hand, rising to her feet with his aid. They move gracefully across the deck, Jester’s borrowed dress sweeping as she moves. Watching Jester like this is breathtaking. She seems to be in her right element, glowing in the light of the full moon and the candles placed around them.  
  
Fjord may not know much about fabrics and fashion, but the dress screams wealth to him. _Probably left behind by one of Percival’s other conquests_ , he thinks.  
  
Then he’s filled with a pang of regret. When did she last look this happy? Fjord can’t remember. _Let her have this,_ he tells himself. _Let her enjoy it while she can. Protect her if it goes too far but remember she’s able to take care of herself. Trust her to make her own choices. She deserves to be happy._  
  
When watching her becomes too much, Fjord steps away from them all.  
  
He walks to the other side of the ship, her laugh fading the further away he gets. It doesn’t help much; he can still hear the music. Fjord takes a deep breath, savouring the sea air. It’s still warm, even this high up and it’s unnerving not to feel the rocking of the ship beneath his feet. There’s still some movement, but the wind is different than the water, enough so that it feels wrong to Fjord.  
  
It is still a ship, but one that depends on air to travel, and Fjord’s love for the seas is strong enough that he would never consider this form of transportation.  
  
Fjord’s ever existing doubts starts to creep in then. He’s known all along that Jester is used to, well, certain comforts, that she’s grown up with wealth. She hasn’t complained, not since the very start, around the time they were nothing more than a fledgling group with no goal and no direction. Back when Fjord still wanted to go to the Solstryce Academy and Molly was still alive. Before the war and infiltration and working for shady people.  
  
Back when things were easier.  
  
It’s no lie that life was simpler when it was just the two of them on the road. Oh, it’s been less difficult to survive since then, since they became the Mighty Nein, but it’s not the same. Maybe things would have been different then, had it been just the two of them. Telling stories around the campfire, letting Jester learn of his life before Sabein’s betrayal and his own deal with Uk’otoa. Of the orphanage and what he went through, why he continued filings his tusks for years and years after that.  
  
Jester in turn had told him of her own upbringing. Of being isolated, her mother, and the Traveler coming into her life. There’s been trust between them from the very start.  
  
_But it’s not enough_ , the voice at the back of his head tells him. _You’re not good enough for her. You never will be. She deserves someone who can provide her with the income she is used to and deserves. Jester deserves to be spoilt. You will never be able to do that._  
  
“The voices are lying, you know,” he hears Caduceus say.  
  
Fjord nearly jumps out of own skin, having been too occupied with his own thoughts to have heard him approach.  
  
“What?” he asks, voice cracking and accent failing.  
“You know what I’m talking about,” Caduceus replies, calm as ever as he sips a cup of tea.  
“Which family’s that?” Fjord asks instead of answering, hoping to derail Caduceus.  
  
It doesn’t work of course.  
  
“Talk to them. Both of them.”  
  
Caduceus walks off without giving Fjord a chance to reply. Not that he’d know what to say to that either way. Nor does he know what to say to Jester about this, and especially not Percival.  
  
In the end, Percival decides that for him.  
  
“You should ask her to dance,” he says, matter-of-factly, as he approaches Fjord some minutes later.  
“It’s not really my thing,” Fjord replies.  
“So? It would make her happy. My father was never much of a dancer, despite being brought up as the son of the Baron and Baroness of Whitestone. He changed when he met my mother. Oh, he still doesn’t want to, but he does it for her sake. Doesn’t Jester deserve the same?”  
“She’s got you though,” Fjord says, because it’s the only thing he can think of.”  
  
Percival looks at him for a moment.  
  
“I see the way she looks at you. Listen, Fjord, don’t wait until it is too late. My aunt Kiki was in love with uncle Vax, my mother’s twin. They barely got a few months together before The Raven Queen called uncle Vax to her side as her Champion. Don’t make the same mistake as they did and wait.”  
  
Fjord nods.  
  
“And another thing. I know you think that I am confident, but it’s an act. I am the eldest child of the de Rolo family, son of two of the heroes that saved all of Tal’Dorei and most likely Wildemount as well. This coat?” he pinches the fabric between his fingers, “is the one my father used. It’s an heirloom, something to live up to. Same goes for my mother’s bow, that was used to slay Vecna and countless others.”  
  
Percival falls silent for a moment before he continues.  
  
“They have left impossible standards to live up to, for all my siblings. So I have to appear like I know what I am doing, because although my parents are on the council that rules Whitestone, the title and responsibility of a Baron will fall on me one day. You’re lucky to not have such expectations Fjord. Money and fame is not all there is to life. You have friends who care for you and a beautiful woman who loves you. Do not dismiss that my friend.”  
  
With a pat on the shoulder, Percival returns to the others.  
  
Fjord turns to look to his friends, and finds Jester looking at him. She seems concerned, and he feels a pang of guilt for making her feel that way. She may be a cleric, but it’s not her job to be worried for him. It’s rather the other way around.  
  
The music still plays.  
  
_Deep breath_ , Fjord tells himself, closing his eyes. _Everything’s gonna be okay. Jester’s happiness is more important than your own discomfort. Take the advice offered with no demand for compensation._  
  
Fjord opens his eyes and smiles at Jester.


End file.
